


With Bated Breath

by suomifae



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, happy ending tho bc i love those, tfw sweet pining and angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-29 11:12:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7682200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suomifae/pseuds/suomifae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Keith knows Lance doesn't like him back. But he just can't help but hope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Bated Breath

It was in every interaction between them, every movement, every word, every glance. Keith knew, with nearly all certainty that Lance hated his guts.

And he was fine with that. He understood. He could deal with that, no matter how painful it was and no matter how hard it made for him to breathe.

Lance didn’t have to feel the same way. It was selfish to think he would.

Keith knew he didn’t have any redeeming qualities; he was rash and impulsive, irritable and mean, he was oblivious to the world at the best of times and he didn’t understand most jokes. He could accept his lot in life.

But then, oh then, Lance began to _talk_ to him. Really talk to him. Laugh and joke and have _fun_ with him.  Keith had already thought Lance was handsome, had already admired his bravery and grit. But nothing was more beautiful than Lance when he laughed with everything he had. And nothing was more inspiring than watching Lance fight despite the fears he’d confided in with Keith.

It made his heart ache in the best of ways and stole his breath away in bittersweet wonder.

It made the secret he kept deep within his heart grow heavy with untold weight, yet light with giddy hope.

Every time he was around Lance, it worsened. The fought in jest now and it was nearly on the tip of his tongue every time. His secret. He held it back. Not yet. Maybe never.

Never became soon. The burning in his chest growing and growing and begging to be released. He yearned to tell Lance, to let his fears become unfounded and revel in the happiness he dearly hoped for. Lance was like sunshine and he wanted to _bask_ in it.

They were talking after a fight, still sweaty and tired and bubbly from victory. Lance was laughing and Keith was laughing too. Lance was saying something but Keith couldn’t hear. They were so close. His pulse was rushing and his cheeks were on fire and all he could think about was _Lance, Lance, Lance_. And if he tilted his head just the right way and leaned in just a little bit more… Maybe he wouldn’t have to say anything at all. Keith was no good with words, but actions he could do.

So he closed his eyes and took a dive and it was the best moment of his life. Lance’s lips were only slightly chapped but they were warm and soft and he smelled like sweat and sunblock. It lasted only a moment before he pulled back and he waited.

Lance was giving him a look that shattered his heart. Lance looked confused. Upset. He didn’t say a word. Just looked at Keith in a way that he wanted to never remember after this moment. He looked away, pulling away from Lance and covering his mouth with his hand and it was the worst moment of his life. He couldn’t believe he did that. He’d ruined _everything_.

“Keith-,” Lance started. Stopped. He couldn’t find words.

That was okay with Keith. He understood. He’d known right from the start and he shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up. Should’ve realized. He got up. Left. Ran without a word.

*

Lance found him eventually. Because of course he did. Lance couldn’t have just left this alone, left him to wallow with his broken heart, left him to mourn something that’d never been real. He couldn’t just leave well enough alone. Because this was Lance. And he had things to say.

“Keith,” he said softly, leaning up against the wall beside the window seat Keith was curled up on.

Keith didn’t look up from where his head was buried in his arms, just tensing at the sound of his voice and hoping that he’d go away.

He didn’t.

“Keith, buddy, pal, amigo,” Lance rambled. “Look at me, dude, I have something important to say.”

Keith didn’t move, stubborn and embarrassed.

“Listen, Keith, hermoso, friend,” he continued, “hombre mújol, you really need to hear what I have to tell you. It’s really, very important. The most important.”

Keith refused to move.

“Bonito, amado, mi corazón, querido, mi media naranja,” Lance kept rambling. “I need to tell you something.”

“ _What?_ ” Keith snapped, finally lifting his head to glare at Lance.

Lance swooped down and stole his breath, gently lips pressed against his own and gentle fingers propping up his chin, softly caressing his cheek.

Keith stopped thinking, stopped processing everything in the world aside from the moment. The feel of Lance’s lips on his and the small smile he could feel tugging at their edges, the sweat smell of sunblock and the heat of having another person so very close. The kiss was brief, just as brief as the first, but Keith didn’t feel he minded so much.

“Next time don’t run away, silly,” Lance murmured against his cheek.

Keith let out a breathless laugh and Keith knew, with all certainty, that Lance didn’t really hate his guts after all.

“Okay,” he whispered back. A promise.


End file.
